Vicodin And Whiskey
by TheStrangeAndBeautiful
Summary: He has Vicodin. She has him. They both drink whiskey. House / Cameron. N.B. References to possible domestic violence.


**House / Cameron.**

**Angst/ Hurt/Comfort/ Romance. **

**References to possible domestic violence involving unmentioned person.**

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He has just settled on the couch, Vicodin and whisky. A bad day nearly at an end.

A soft knocking at the door. He groans and closes his eyes.

A minute later and knocking again. Rolling his eyes he swings his legs to the floor, grabs his cane and starts over to the door. He looks through the spy hole. He looks down, sighs and then releases the catch on the door. He looks at her wearily and she looks up at him timidly. His eyes run over her and she shifts uncomfortably. He steps back against the door and she moves past him. He catches an aroma of alcohol and perfume.

By the time he's closed the door and turned around, her eyes are glassy with tears. He can see her properly now. Red rimmed eyes, black circles under each, pale almost translucent skin, sharp cheekbones and sore, cracked lips. He looks down, wincing, unable to stare any longer.

She bites her lip and waits for his next move.

He twists his lips as he weighs up the situation, considers and finally continues.

'Do I need to make up the spare bed?' He finally asks, turning to avoid looking at her again.

Her eyes slide over to where his clock sits. She couldn't sleep but wouldn't leave.

'I'm happy to sit.' She speaks calmly; controlled- and he looks around surprised and watches as she sits on his couch.

Stiffly, he walks around and sits next to her.

'So.' He reaches for his Whisky and downs the last few drops. 'Are you going to tell me this time?' He looks at her out of the corner of his eye.

'Tell you what?' She is eyeing the whiskey but he can smell the alcohol on her and is reluctant to give her some. But he knows he'll give in eventually. He always does.

'Tell me what's going on.'

They both know she won't. Every time he asks and every time she ignores the question or shakes her head. Tonight she ignores it.

'Let me see.' He lifts his head, preparing himself.

Slowly she slides off her jacket and then pulls off her jumper.

Her vest top is white and pure. Her skin is white and tainted.

He winces and reaches out to her right arm. A red bruise stretches from her shoulder to her elbow and he spends too long trying to figure out how it was made. She blinks away a tear. Tonight there are tears. Last week there were none. Now she lifts her top slightly to reveal her waist. More read bruising and this time rawness. But the worst is to come. He catches a small tear of blood running down past her ear, from underneath her hat. He pulls it off slowly. Her hair spills out. He pulls it to the side and the wet, red stickiness is exposed. He closes his eyes briefly before gently exploring her head with his fingers. She closes her eyes and keeps them closed but he can still see her flinching in pain. He tests the cut. Thankfully there is no need for stitches.

He gets up and comes back a few minutes later with some supplies. She is sipping his whiskey.

'Cameron…' He begins wearily but she doesn't seem to hear him.

Once he has dressed the wound and she has finished his drink, he lets her lean onto him. She closes her eyes and he rolls his, knowing he's in for an uncomfortable night. Looking down at her, he sees a bead of sadness left on her eyelashes. It slowly rolls down her cheek and leaves a trail of mascara and anguish. He feels an ache inside of him and shifts positions gently so that he can put an arm around her.

Later he wakes at the sound of the door unlocking. She knows he watches her leave but won't turn around.

At work the next morning, he is tired and achy and she is in one of her long jumpers again. He glances at her before turning to the board and she glances at him before lowering her eyes. A silent moment passes, unnoticed by others. And then it's over and the connection is lost. Until next time.

He has Vicodin. She has him. They both drink whiskey.

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**Thanks for reading. Please review. **


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